Of Royalty and Rebels
by Merits Of My Boredom
Summary: Arthur Kirkland is the Queen of Spades that is trying his best for his people. Alfred F. Jones is a peasant that is fighting to free the people of Spades from an oppressive government. Neither counted on falling in love. Cardverse/Cardtalia. USUK
1. Chapter 1

**Merits: Hello to everyone! So, this my first fanfic on this account. Let me say thank you for picking this story to read out of all the ones that are currently on this site. It is really appreciated. If you haven't already figured it out, this is a USUK story. That mean boy x boy. However, there will be no yoai. I don't write mature content. Sorry. Oh yeah, this is a Cardverse AU because I love Cardtalia. I guess it's a bit of a few other crossovers, but the main one is Cardverse.**

**Warnings:** _Swears/cussing, boy x boy/slash (later), and violence (later)_

**Important Characters (In order of appearance):**

_Arthur Kirkland ~ England ~ 23_

_Alfred F. Jones ~ America ~ 19_

_Yoa Wang (mentioned) ~ China ~ 33_

**So now that I've bored you with my author's note, on with the story!**

* * *

Arthur sighed and carded his golden hair in between his fingers. He had gotten up at dawn and had spent all day debating over problems, attending meetings with advisors, and working out anything he didn't quite get with Yoa. All in all, it was an exhausting day.

And he still had a mountain of paperwork to sign.

Arthur sighed heavily again. Removing his hands from his hair, he instead chose to fiddle with the edge of his cloak in favor of his unruly golden locks. The long purple cloak covered up a white undershirt and a small part of his tan pants. The most ridiculous white bow that Arthur would have burned long ago, had it not been for traditional reasons, was tied around the Queen's neck. Resting upon his head was a small top hat that always seemed to lean to the left of his head. After years of fighting to keep it straight, Arthur had simply given up on it.

Arthur glared at the tall stack of papers that he still had to sign. He really didn't want to, though. Then again, when did he get what he wanted? Never.

Giving an irritated huff, Arthur reached for the quill that was lying on his desk, dipped it in the jar of black ink, and began to scribble his name on the parchment of the documents.

Arthur had been trained from (practically) birth to be the Queen or any other Royal. Arthur had been born and raised in a family of nobles that were well acquainted with the old Royals of Spades. Arthur didn't remember the old King and the Queen had died before he was born. Yao, the Jack, had been around for quite a long time. Yoa, if Arthur was correct, was around ten years older than himself. The old King had died when Arthur was eleven years old.

At first, the kingdom of Spades had been in complete turmoil. The people had been worried about the state of their Royals, or lack thereof. One Jack was not enough to run the entire kingdom. This happened for about a year. Then the Clocks chose the next Queen of Spades.

Arthur Kirkland.

Arthur's parents, predictably, had been ecstatic. Their son was going to be the Queen of all of Spades and its one and a half billion subjects. His brothers had been jealous. Why would the youngest get to be the Queen and not them? Arthur had been downright terrified. There was no way that he, a twelve year old boy, could possibly become the ruler of one of the four Kingdoms of the Deck. It scared him. However, Arthur forced himself to suck in his gut, keep his chin up, and accept everything. If not for himself and the people of Spades, then for his parents and to prove his brothers that he was right for the position and not them.

So here Arthur was: a twenty three year old man that was stuck inside the palace walls doing the work of both the Queen and King, seeing as the Clocks hadn't chosen a new King quite yet. He had been stuck as the Queen for eleven years and life was never easy. And the rising rebellion didn't make it much better.

Arthur felt a scowl creep onto his face. The rebellion. Damn it. The commoners and peasants of Spades were apparently unhappy with the current condition of the kingdom. And what did they decide to do? Rebel.

Arthur groaned. Why couldn't they just wait it out? Yes, not everything was perfect, but from what he had seen nothing had changed too drastically. There was no reason for these people to start an uprising. Some of the nobles had even stared calling the Rioting Rebels. Unofficially, of course.

Arthur sighed again and turned back to his paperwork. It wasn't his place to deal with the foolish anarchists. Best to leave them to his advisors and council members.

~•*•~•*•~•*•~

It was a good day for Alfred F. Jones. A very good day indeed.

A huge grin of pure joy was on his face and his eyes were alight with cheer (and slight mischief). That was the only thing one could see when they looked at him. Literally. Alfred's face was covered by a mask that his everything but his mouth and eyes. As for the rest of his body, it was covered with a skintight long sleeve midnight blue shirt and tight, black pants along with a pair of black combat boots. Not what he wore for everyday occurrences. Then again, he wasn't really doing what one would consider an everyday occurrence at the moment.

"Stop!" A voice screeched. Alfred turned his head over his shoulder to see three Enforcers running at full speed to catch up to him. Alfred's grin morphed into a smirk.

"Thief!" Another one yelled as they started falling behind. Heads craned to look up at Alfred. The blonde couldn't help but feel proud of himself. It had taken forever, but his teacher had turned him into a fighting machine. His teacher had taught him everything: agility, strength, balance, stamina, strategy, and stealth. And Alfred was thankful for it; otherwise, he wouldn't be able to sprint across the peaks of house roofs at a breakneck pace. Like he was doing right now.

As for the thief part… well, Alfred had taken something rather important from the snooty nobles in one of the richer districts of the city and he wasn't very keen on giving it up quite yet.

Alfred looked back up to focus on the path ahead of him. Now, where was that gate that separated the richer and poorer district? Ah, there it was.

Alfred ran on the roof top until he reached the gate. Bending his legs for the extra spring, he jumped up and landed on top of the stone gate.

The blonde looked down at the Enforcers that were currently shouting curses and threats at him. Alfred smirked again and simply reached into his pocket. Producing the item he was looking for, Alfred held it between his middle and pointer finger before flicking it at the wall directly next to one of the three Enforcers. All three of them froze.

Shattering the silence, the tallest one growled. He knew that sign. That card with spiked corners that could cut through walls and a single black ace on the white surface: the thief's tell.

"You," he hissed, startling his two companions, "you're that rebel thief, Trump!"

Alfred's only response was a widening smirk before he jumped onto the other side of the wall and ran.

* * *

**Merits: Sorry that the first chapter is kind of short. It is just a tiny intro. I promise that the next one will be longer! So about Alfred. Obviously, he's a rebel. The reason he wears a mask and has a fake name is because he can't let the kingdom know his true identity. I like the name Trump a lot. Also, I might refer to him as Trump if I am in limiting my third person knowledge to Arthur or anyone else who doesn't know his identity.**

**Please please please review! Praise me or flame me, I would live to hear your comments!**


	2. First Meeting

**Merits: Okay, let's get one thing straight: I will never update this fast ever again. I already had most of this done and I thought why not. It won't do any harm. So yeah. Next update will be in a week or two but don't hold me to that. Anyways, thank you for enduring through the first chapter and then deciding to endure the second one. I am so grateful for that. Thanks!**

**Also thank you to my reviewers. I love you guys! *Glomps***

_ Yukairi ~ Thank you so so so much! I will edit all of that immediately. I felt like something was off. Also, I live clichés too, but there needs to be a little twist every now and then. Thank you again!_

**Warnings: **_Swears/cussing, boy x boy/slash (later), and violence (later)_

**Important Characters (In order of appearance):**

_Alfred F. Jones ~ America ~ 19_

_Matthew Williams ~ Canada ~ 20_

_Wayne Stone ~ OC, not a country ~ 27_

_Arthur Kirkland ~ England ~ 23_

_Yao Wang ~ China ~ 33_

_Francis Bonnefoy (mentioned) ~ France ~ 30_

**Author's notes are a drag. On with the story!**

* * *

_**Last chapter…**_

_"You," he hissed, startling his two companions, "you're that rebel thief, Trump!"_

_Alfred's only response was a widening smirk before he jumped onto the other side of the wall and ran._

* * *

Alfred ran like a madman to get to his destination. Well, it was more of a normal pace for him, being a thief and all, but to anyone else it looked liked he was running like a madman. However, each person greeted him with a joyous cheer or a hopeful smile, despite his ruffled appearance. After all, Trump was a well known hero to the commoners of Spades.

Shooting the occasional grin back at them, Alfred continued sprinting for a good bit of time. After a good while, he reached one of the poorest parts of his district and veered off into the woods. He immediately located the small wooden cottage with the hay roof that did nothing to block out the rain. No one would see him go into this cottage, his home.

Finally slowing down, Alfred sauntered into the cottage like he owned the place (because he really did) and swung the rickety door open carefully.

Not much was inside. The cottage was only one story high in the first place. All there was were two or three books, a small coffee table that doubled for dining, a cabinet for food, an old cot that was falling apart, and a worn couch that was probably white at some point. And on that couch was a person that looked a lot like Alfred, fast asleep. Alfred felt warmth burst through his chest and a smile take over his face.

Alfred went through the doorway to stare down and his brother. Matthew hardly ever napped during the day. He was always busy with something, whether it be work or… well, all Matthew really did was work. It was nice for Alfred to see his older brother taking a break for once.

Contemplating whether or not he should wake Matthew up, Alfred felt the familiar rise of the hair on the back of his neck. Alfred whipped around and slipped a knife out of his sleeve. He swiftly held it up in a defensive position. The clang of metal against metal rang through the air as a single dagger fell to the floor. Alfred breathed a sigh of relief as he let his guard down and loosened the grip on his knife. The sound of clapping made him look back up.

"I'm impressed, Rookie," the man continued to applaud as he spoke, "good reflexes. And you finally remembered your knife for a change. Thought I'd never get that rule through you."

Alfred felt a smile twitch at his lips. "God, Wayne. You almost gave me a heart attack."

Wayne chuckled before he came in to stand next to Alfred. Wayne had dark jet black hair and pale skin. He also wore a long black cloak that hid most of his body, but Alfred knew that there were four daggers and at least eight throwing knives hidden on his body. There always were. A small leather strand with a dark black stone tied to the end dangled from his neck. However, the thing that stood out about Wayne were his eyes. They were ice blue, so much to the point that they almost seemed to glow. They were the first thing that anyone would notice about Wayne.

"Well," Wayne raised an eyebrow, "if I didn't, then who would?"

Alfred sent a smirk in response. "I don't feel like having a heart attack from anyone, thank you very much."

This sort of thing was usual for Alfred. While he was doing something, Wayne would come up out of no where and throw a blunt knife at him. In the beginning, Alfred had thought that his shoulders would never stop hurting from the onslaught of bruises he got every time. It took a while, but Alfred started to sense Wayne's knife flying at him and was able to dodge the weapon. And while he could now sense Wayne's press t and block the weapon, he occasionally forgot one of Wayne's many rules: always, no matter the circumstances, carry a knife.

Alfred had to listen to Wayne. After all, the pale adult was his teacher.

"I'm not trying to give you a heart attack," Wayne shrugged, "just trying to keep you alive and all."

"Yeah, yeah." Alfred rolled his eye jovially.

"You gonna take that ridiculous mask off, Rookie?"

"Oh, right!" Alfred reached up and slid the mast off his face, revealing the expanse of tan skin that had previously been hidden from view. He didn't even bother to correct the nickname that his treacherous had given him; Alfred had been called Rookie by Wayne for as long as he could remember."Better?"

"Much," Wayne nodded, "although I don't see why you need that thing and a stupid pseudonym."

"Suedo-what? And my mask is awesome!"

Wayne sighed. "Pseudonym. It's a fake or fictitious name. Like Trump. Just ditch the mask and the costume and be Alfred F. Jones. No one will care who saves them so long as they get saved."

Alfred pouted. "You're no fun."

"When am I?" Wayne deadpanned.

"Alfred, you're back! Eh, hello Wayne." A quiet voice interrupted the two's playful squabble.

"Hey Mattie!" Alfred pounced and glomped his older brother. "How are you?"

Matthew sighed softly and slowly pushed Alfred off of him. "Eh, I'm fine. How are you and Wayne?"

"Great!" Alfred sprang up excitedly before rummaging through his over-the-shoulder leather messenger bag. The happy teen brought out the item he was looking for. After flashing it a Matthew, he handed it to Wayne. Matthew gaped and Wayne smiled.

"Well done, Rookie. Well done." Wayne reached out and ruffled Alfred's hair.

Alfred stepped back to avoid Wayne's hand but grinned all the same. "Thanks, man!"

Matthew was still awestruck. "I can't believe that you actually stole it. My God, Alfred. How the maple are you not dead yet?!"

Wayne grinned, a sight that Alfred don't see very often. Yes, there was the occasional smile here and smirk there, but Wayne rarely grinned. Then again, if there was a time to be grinning, it was now.

"Well done, Rookie." Wayne repeated in a whisper, taking the stolen item and tuning it over in his hands. "We'll done, indeed."

~•*•~•*•~•*•~

Arthur was woken up to rigorous shaking. "Wha—"

"Now is not the time to be sleeping, aru!" Arthur recognized Yoa's voice. The Jack sounded worried. "Hurry and get up and ready. Come to the dining area when you are done. Quickly, aru!"

The sound of hurried footsteps and a door slamming were heard next. Then silence.

Arthur groaned and threw the warm, soft blankets off of him. He groggily opened up his eyes and stared up at the white stone ceiling above him. Groaning again, Arthur dragged himself out of his large bed. The comforter itself was a majestic purple while the pillows were a royal mountain blue and everything was lined with silver. Even now Arthur still found the unintentional visual play on words humorous.

The now awake Royal staggered to the large purple couch with small blue pillows. Reaching out blindly, the Queen snagged his clothes and stripped out of his nightwear to put on the clothes that matched his attire from yesterday. The sound of someone whistling made him freeze.

"Well, well, well. The Queen of Spades stripping down for only me to see? I feel special."

Arthur whipped around to see a young man crouching on the edge of his window that the palace gardens could be seen from. The stranger had black pants, combat boots that were laced up, black gloves, and a midnight blue shirt. He also wore a simple black mask that hid most of his face. However, Arthur could see the blond hair that spilled over the top and bright blue eyes. Two thoughts went through Arthur's mind at the same time.

_Damn. He's rather attractive._

_How the hell did he get to a window on the third story?_

Then Arthur remembered he was naked and dived behind the couch, blushing furiously. A third thought was added.

_Shite_!

"W-what the blood-dy fucking hell do you think you're doing!" Arthur screeched. He had curled up into a ball and refused to even look at the man in the skintight clothing that hugged his well built frame. Arthur wished that he was hugging it instead of that clothing.

Arthur's blush intensified. Francis was right. He was a pervert.

"Oh, nothing." Arthur couldn't see the man, but he could vividly picture him smirking at the couch while lounging against the stone walls. "I was simply checking up on something. And it wasn't this lovely view, but I'm glad I got to see it."

Arthur choked on air.

"Thanks for the cheap entertainment," the stranger continued his one sided stream of conversation, "but I really must be going. Have a nice day, queenie." Arthur beard some shuffling followed by silence once again.

Only after his blush had disappeared and he was sure that the stranger was gone did Arthur peak out from behind the couch. Still nothing. Swiftly, he proceeded to get dressed.

_What the hell did he mean, cheap entertainment?_ Arthur thought. _Seeing the Queen of Spades is not "entertaining"! And even if it was, it certainly isn't cheap! And what was that about checking up on something? I could report him, but that would mean telling someone about what happened…_ Arthur blushed.

_No. I won't tell anyone._

After straightening out the last wrinkle in the cloak and adjusting the bow around his neck every so slightly, Arthur was ready to head out of his room. And he would have, too, if not for the glint by the window that he saw from the corner of his eye.

Fearing the worst, Arthur pivoted around to face the masked man. When he didn't see anything, the Queen quickly stalked to the window. Still no stranger.

There was, however, a strange playing card that Arthur saw. Playing cards had been made based on the four Kingdoms of the Deck and the Ranks within each Kingdom. This particular card was a pristine white color that was marred by a simple black spade. No indication of any Rank whatsoever. Arthur wasn't entirely sure what kind of playing card it was. However, the truly odd thing about the card were its corners. They seemed to be made of metal and looked very sharp. Gingerly grabbing the edges as not to cut himself, Arthur picked up the card and flipped it over. The same spade was on this side. The only difference was the coloring. The surface was black with a white spade on it. Arthur's enormous eyebrows furrowed. How odd.

Pocketing the strange card that he assumed that the stranger had left, Arthur turned to leave his room to head to the dining area. Yoa almost always wore a poker face, so having his voice laced with worry certainly meant that something was up.

Upon reaching the dining hall, Arthur saw that every elegant white chair—except three more intricate ones at the head of the long table—were filled up with the best advisors and council members. Yoa sat in the smallest of the three chairs at the head of the table, to the left of the other to chairs on the end from where Arthur stood behind him. The Queen walked to the chair farthest to the right. It was slightly bigger than Yoa's chair, but smaller than the chair in the middle: the King's chair.

When the Jack noted Arthur's presence, he nodded to himself then stood up.

"As some of you already know," yoa began, addressing everyone, "yesterday, slightly before midnight,something was stolen, aru."

Arthur noted that while some of the men looked confused and baffled, others seemed grim and a handful were stone faced. He also noted that if the time was correct, he had been asleep during the robbery.

"And?" One of the advisers stood up as he spoke. "Something was stolen. This criminal should be punished but I hardly see the need to gather us all over a petty burglar."

A few shouts of agreement followed the statement.

"I know, aru." Yoa continued as the advisers sat down again. "Had it been a vase or a bit of money, this meeting wouldn't have happened. However, this wasn't a simple robbery, aru." Pause.

"Well," Arthur crossed his arms impatiently, "out with it."

Yoa took a deep breath. "This thief… he stole the King's crown, aru."

The entire room went into an uproar.

"Impossible!"

"How on Earth—?"

"Who!?"

"We need to increase the guards—"

"How did this happen!?"

"Silence!" Arthur yelled as he shot up from his seat and slammed his hands onto the table. All talking ceased. He turned to Yoa. "What do we know?"

You sent Arthur a grateful look before he turned back to the rest of the room. "A guard noticed the crown missing while he was making his midnight rounds. Another guard that was on duty had been in the area not five minutes before midnight. In that time space, the crown was stolen, aru."

Arthur blinked. It took incredible skill to be able to sneak past countless guards and steal one of the kingdom's most well guarded items. The King's crown was under near constant surveillance.

Yoa continued. "A bit after midnight, three Enforcers were on their nightly patrol, aru." Yoa waved someone over to him. Arthur craned his neck to see two men and one woman in the uniform of the Enforcers. The three of them wore purple pants and black shoes with a blue and black striped shirt. On their left side was a sword with a silver hilt and a gleaming blade. Also, on the left side of their chests was silver badge depicting the Seal of Spades: a single spade with two flowers twirling around it. This was what identified them as Enforcers of the Law or the Kingdom of Spades.

"These three," Yoa started up again, "believe to have seen the thief. Please, tell them what you saw, aru." The last statement was directed to the Enforcers.

One of them, the shorter man, nodded and stepped forward. "We were on our nightly patrol," he began, "and I saw a flicker of movement in an alley way. We went to see see of there was any irregular activity."

The woman took over. "We saw a man putting the crown in a bag. We shouted out to him to stop and raise his hands. After all, he was unarmed and the alley was a dead end. We had him cornered. Then he just…"

"He jumped on one wall to another until he reached the roof peaks and he ran." The original speaker finished.

"What do you mean?" Arthur asked.

"The guy jumped from wall to wall and climbed higher until he got to the top. Then he ran along the roof peaks. He was very fast." The shorter man again.

Everyone was silent for a few moments. Then Yoa broke it. "Is there anything you can tell us about his appearance that could help us identify him, aru?"

"Yes," the woman nodded, "he has dark blond hair and blue eyes. He is a bit taller than most, but not noticeably so. He has a strong build." Silence.

"That's all, aru?" Yoa asked.

"No," the tallest grunted. It was the first time he had spoken.

"What can you tell us, aru?" Yoa prompted.

"He's a rebel thief," he said in a deep, gravelly voice, "that goes by the name of Trump. Wears a blue shirt and black pants. And a mask. I think he's a peasant."

Arthur felt his heart beat faster. This man, Trump, sounded an awful like that man in his window from earlier. Blond hair, blue eyes, the same attire, and a strong body. And who else could scale walls like that? The Queen shook his head slightly. Anyone could do that. It was a mere coincidence.

"But the thing that really distinguishes him," the Enforcer continued, "is the cards."

Arthur felt ice crawl down his spine.

"They are double sided. One has a black spade on a white surface and the other had a white spade on a black surface. The corners are razor sharp and can cut through even stone. He leaves them after someone fails to capture him." The Enforcer bowed his head. "That is all."

_Oh Jokers, _Arthur thought, _that rebel thief saw me… and without clothes, no less!_

Yoa nodded at the three Enforcers. "You three are dismissed, aru."

The Enforcers bowed, said "yes Jack of Spades," and left the meeting room.

When they were gone, Yoa turned back to everyone. "The King's crown has been stolen by a rebel thief named Trump. That is all we know. If any of you catch wind of him, please inform us, aru. That is all. Meeting dismissed, aru."

All the advisers and council members nodded before each of them took their leave. Yao turned to Arthur.

"Your Majesty, aru," Yao said, "if you see anything, please tell me, aru."

Arthur raised an eyebrow and tried to calm his flaming cheeks. "Why wouldn't I?"

Yao's eyes narrowed. "Alright, aru." With that, the Jack of Spades stood and left Arthur alone in the meeting room.

Arthur carded his fingers through his hair. _I couldn't have said anything. Everyone would have found out what happened! And that man, he was a rebel thief. Trump… what an odd name. Arthur sighed. God, when did my life become so screwed up?_

* * *

**Merits: Okay! That was a bit of a better chapter! And in case you didn't figure it out yet, that was Alfred that was creeping on Arthur. How could I resist? Also, enter my OC, Wayne! I love Wayne! For the purposes of this story, he is Alfred's teacher/battle instructor/ friend. I won't tell you much else because I want to develop him. So yeah. Thank you for reading!**

**Please review. Please please please please please! Reviews are what keep me motivated! Also, for every fiftieth reviewer, I you can request a one shot and I will write it. It can be any Hetalia pairing (I would prefer USUK/UKUS) and cannot be M rated. Thank you! Review!**


	3. An Unexpected Visit

**Merits: Yay~! Chapter three! So, I had a bunch of spare time on my hands since I stayed home from school because I was sick. :( My stomach feels like shit. On the bright side, I got to go see my cousins and grandparents in North Carolina for Easter. My cousins are awesome. Now that that's out of the way, I thank you for bearing through my error filled writing. It means a lot to me.**

**Thank you for reviewing, Yukairi! *Glomps***

**Warnings: **_Swears/cussing, boy x boy/slash (later), and violence (later)_

**Important Characters (In order of appearance):**

_Alfred F. Jones ~ America ~ 19_

_Wayne Stone ~ OC, not a country ~ 27_

_Matthew Williams ~ Canada ~ 20_

_Arthur Kirkland ~ England ~ 23_

_Yao Wang (mentioned) ~ China ~ 33_

_Francis Bonnefoy (mentioned) ~ France ~ 30_

**Now that I have finished boring you to death, I shall continue with the story!**

* * *

Alfred couldn't help but snicker as he stealthily evaded the abundance of guards that were patrolling the palace courtyards. The Queen's face had been priceless. God, the man had looked ready to keel over and die of embarrassment. The whole thing had been hilarious.

After Alfred had left the Queen, Arthur Kirkland if his memory was accurate, to his humiliation, he had snuck into the meeting room to analyze the severity of his situation. Even though he was pretty dense when it came to people, he could feel the outrage, the fear, and the shock of everyone in the dining room. He didn't get it. Okay, it was the King's crown and it was obviously expensive, but it wasn't that big of a deal. It could be remade. And it wasn't even that big!

Alfred shook his head. He had been really pissed off at the food there, too. There had been bacon, sausages, pancakes, milk, water, and beautiful fresh fruit. Just the sight had made his mouth water and he had to stop from moaning when the smell reached him. And no one touched it. Not one. And where would that food be going? Not to the starving peasants of this or any other city. Nope, it was going straight into the trash. God forbid that those bastards eat anything that was a day old.

Alfred grimaced, which was an unusual sight. He tried to grasp something happier. He thought of the flustered Queen and his spirits immediately lifted back up.

Making sure to cut his laughter off whenever anyone else went by him, Alfred was able to quickly find his way through the castle grounds and to the huge stone wall that separated the castle from the rest of the world and city directly outside. Alfred shook his head. Being poor and a "peasant" was not fun, but to be cut off from the world around him while being constantly surrounded seemed like a personal hell. At least in his current position he could act as an individual. He could be himself, not some snarky bastard that the rest of the world would want him to be.

Alfred produced two dagger from the holsters on his leather belt that was tied around his waist. The wall wasn't incredibly high, four meters—too tall to jump but tall enough, as it was only meant to ward off initial attacks. The barricades inside the castle walls proved to have much better defenses. They had been hell to sneak through. Alfred could vividly recall at least seven times that he had nearly been captured. Those guards had been way too lax considering the revolution.

As Alfred sunk the daggers into the walls, thankful for the multiple cracks that let them slip in, he couldn't help but smile warmly at the thought. Revolution. The Royals and all of the pompous nobles and rich snobs thought that this was simply a rebellion, a revolt. They thought that this was a spur of the moment thing consisting of random riots and robberies.

Alfred shook his head and hoisted himself off the ground. Taking the right dagger out of the wall, he reached up his aforementioned arm above his hand and sunk the dagger back into the stone wall. He did the same with his left arm until he was scraping up the wall. Those nobles didn't know how wrong that they were. They didn't know that there was careful planning behind each action, that this revolution had been brewing for years upon years and it was only now being put into action. Everything had been going on for longer than Alfred was alive. Now all that needed to happen was for the people to carry out everything.

This wasn't a simple rebellion or riot; this was a revolution that would change Spades forever. And he was a part of it.

Finally reaching the top of the wall, Alfred snuck a glance over his shoulder. It was early in the morning, the sun hardly even shone, and no one had seen him against the quickly lightening sky. Staying in his position for only a moment longer, the rebel leaped from the wall and flipped once, thus slowing down the speed of his decent, and landed squarely on his feet.

Alfred then took off through the city, sticking to the shadows like a tattoo. The rebel sent a silent thanks up to Wayne; Alfred had always been loud and Wayne had made it his own personal goal to see that his pupil could move like the wind, quick and silent.

He snuck through alley ways and crept along the edges of buildings before he reached the familiar gate. He scaled the wall in the same fashion as the palace wall and leaped down onto the other side. Deciding that it wouldn't hurt anyone — mainly himself — he just strolled leisurely to the small cottage tucked in the forest.

Alfred walked with his head held high and an air of confidence, yet somehow it was not arrogant or condescending. Townspeople and villagers greeted him with smiles and a cheer or two of praise. He had nearly reached his and Matthew's humble dwelling when a small girl came up to him.

"Excuse me, Mr. Trump," she said in a small, meek voice. She had knotted light brown locks and huge blue eyes. The poor thing couldn't have been any more than nine years old. Alfred thought about his brother as soon as he heard the small voice.

Alfred kneeled down so that he was on the small girl's level. "What can I do to help you, sweetie?"

"I…" Alfred prompted her on with an encouraging and gentle nod, "my mommy and brother are really hungry and daddy hasn't come home for a really long time and we don't have any money because mommy won't let me or little brother do any work and mommy is really weak and hungry and—"

She stopped when she felt a hand on her shoulder. Two sets of eyes looked up to follow the arm that led to the owner. Alfred cracked a small smile.

"It's okay," Wayne smiled, "I can help you. Here." The pale rebel produced a single pouch and placed it in the girl's small, dirty hands. "Take that to your mother, alright?"

The girl shook the bag and heard the clink of metal against metal. She looked up, mumbled a thank you, and raced off. Wayne sighed.

"Oh my God," Alfred felt a shit eating grin overtake his face when Wayne turned to look at him, "you are a complete softie."

In the next instant, Alfred found himself lying flat on his back with a sharp pain shooting in his stomach and spine.

"I'm going home. You best too. Get some rest. We'll talk tomorrow." Wayne instructed before he retreated to his own house, cloak billowing out behind him.

"Damn you," Alfred grunted halfheartedly as he picked himself up off the ground. Wayne could be a totally sentimental person when he wanted to be. And then he could become a complete prick in the space of a heartbeat.

After dusting off the nonexistent mess from his clothing, Alfred quickly reached the cottage. Running on the path of worn down grass, he came up to the front door and swung it open gingerly. It had fallen off fifty seven times too many.

"You in here, Mattie?" Alfred asked. The teen rarely kept his voice soft; his personality just didn't fit a small volume level. However, he could sacrifice that for his brother.

"Hey Al," Matthew smiled at his younger sibling from the old couch where he was sitting on while reading a book, "how'd the mission go?"

"Awesome," Alfred flopped down next to his brother, "they aren't even treating it seriously. The only thing that they said was to keep an eye out. No official search parties or anything. Maybe they're getting too afraid of the revolution to try to come onto our turf."

Matthew gave a relieved sigh. "It's a good thing that they aren't taking the revolution that seriously."

"What? Isn't that a bad thing?" Alfred pouted.

Matthew shook his head. "No. If they don't think that the revolution is much of a problem, then they are obviously underestimating us. And in the end, it will hurt them a lot more than it will hurt us to do so," the quiet man explained.

"Hm," Alfred hummed in agreement and nodded his head a few times before standing up, "makes sense. Now if you will excuse me, I don't have any missions for tonight and I need to get out of this shit."

Matthew tilted his head innocently but was betrayed by the glint of mischief in his eyes. "Oh? I thought that you loved your little getup."

Alfred, recognizing the jibe for once, rolled his eyes. "You know I do, but this stuff is just so damn tight."

Both twins looked at each other and were silent for a moment. Then they erupted into a fit if giggles.

"Oh God," Matthew managed out in between giggling and taking in gulps of air, "we are such girls."

This comment only made Alfred laugh harder, causing him to fall from his standing position and into the floor. This only made the two brothers laugh harder.

Finally, Alfred and Matthew calmed down to a stray chuckle or two. Alfred started to stare up at the ceiling, a thoughtful expression overtaking his face. Matthew furrowed his brows at the action.

"Eh, what's on your mind?"

"Nothing," Alfred responded with the same blank look, "just thinking that we haven't had a laugh like that in a long time."

Matthew smiled. "You're right. Now come on, those clothes are probably still bothering you."

~•*•~•*•~•*•~

Arthur simply couldn't go to sleep. He tried to, really, he did. But for some reason his body just didn't want to.

After the initial meeting in the morning, Arthur had attended to his daily responsibilities as Queen. when he had finished, Arthur had practically sprinted back up to his room, making sure to lock the door behind him. The Queen had then made his way straight for the window to make sure that no one was there. Arthur did not want a repeat of this morning and he was not disappointed; there was not a single person in sight.

Heaving a sigh, the blonde had removed the strange card from his pocket and placed it onto the small table where he kept his tea. Making sure to undress and redress quickly (again, he did not want to repeat that morning), the Royal was soon in his nightwear and collected the strange card, Trump's card, into his hands. Arthur studied it, turning it over in his hands and trying to memorize every little detail. Not that there was much. The whole card was stylishly simple.

After a good half hour, Arthur's tired body forced him to call it quits and crawl into the soft, comfortable purple bed. He closed his eyes and willed sleep to take him. Of course, his mind had other plans.

All the Royal could think about was Trump. And not about capturing him, or executing him, or unearthing his true identity. No, Arthur was thinking of that leering smirk and the abs that were protruding underneath that tight clothing. He was thinking of those sparkling blue eyes and honey colored hair and Trump benign him over his work desk and — oh God. Arthur shook his head again to clear the lewd thoughts that would have had even Francis blushing like a schoolgirl.

The Queen huffed. He should be thinking about when that thief's execution date should be, not imitating what those gloved hands would feel like gliding across his skin and those soft lips on his neck, blue eyes dark—

Arthur groaned. He was doing it again. Damn it. Why did the whole bad boy routine coupled with good looks have to be so attractive? Why couldn't he simply find the whole thing repulsive like a normal person? Damn hormones.

All in all, it was a restless night.

~•*•~•*•~•*•~

Alfred hastily advanced through the dense mass of trees, going deeper into the forest. Wayne had wanted a quick training session before noon and Alfred was happy to oblige. He would always grasp at any opportunity to try to best his mentor. Especially this particular training exercise. Wayne hadn't said what, but based on the location, Alfred knew exactly what it was.

Eager, the rebel quickly reached his final destination. It was a large clearing, nearly enough to accommodate a barn, near the heart of the forest with the most peculiar layout. There was a ditch spanning everything but the edges about a meter deep. If that wasn't odd enough, there were columns of wood that were planted in the ditch, extending until they stood level with the rim of the ditch. Other columns also emerged form the ground, but there were one and a half meters from the bottom of the ditch, half a meter from the surface. Each one was twelve centimeters wide and rounded at the top. The infamous Pegs.

The hairs on the back of Alfred's neck pricked and the teen was immediately on his guard. Alas, he was a little too late. An object flew across the clearing, landing square against his shoulder. Yelling in surprise, Alfred fell to the ground, staring up at the still dark morning sky.

"Tsk, tsk," Alfred adjusted his head to see Wayne making his way towards him, arms crossed and wearing the always present black cloak, "you should have been ready for that, Rookie. I am very disappointed."

Alfred rolled his eyes jovially, "yeah, yeah, cut me some slack once in a while."

"The second I cut you slack is going to be the second you die."

Alfred grunted and stood up, grabbing the blunt knife in the process. "Seriously though, it is way too early in the morning to be doing this shit."

Wayne gave an irritated huff. "Why don't you tell your opponent that the next time he tries to slit your throat? I'm sure he'll let you take a break and have a cup of coffee."

"Was that sarcasm?"

"No shit."

Alfred chuckled and handed the knife back. "You suck, dude."

Wayne rolled his eyes. "Of course. Now, I assume you know what we're going to be doing?"

Alfred grinned. "Duh!"

Both rebels unsheathed their weapons, though the choices were different. Alfred armed himself with a longsword while Wayne held two sharp daggers. After giving Alfred a nod, Wayne jumped onto one of the shorter pegs, then a taller one.

Alfred's grin slipped into a smile as he remembered his first time on the Pegs. He had kept falling off and complaining. He had whined until Wayne told him to "shut up and try again before I hit you." And Alfred was glad that Wayne had made him. It had taken a long time (four years, but who's counting?) but Alfred was now able to maneuver swiftly and steadily across the pegs. They were hard as hell to balance on, but the training was worth it. Alfred could balance on most anything now. Even narrow roof tops.

"Rookie," Alfred was dragged out of his thoughts by Wayne's voice, "are you going to stand there all day?"

Alfred grinned again and stepped onto one of the lower pegs before jumping up to a taller one. Both makes stood ready and on guard. The. Wayne uttered a single word.

"Begin."

Instantly, the two of them raced across the wood towards each other, sword and daggers ready. Steel clashed against steel as their weapons collided. Both retreated after the first blow to regain their balance. Alfred charged again, his sword over his shoulder like a baseball player holding a bat. Wayne easily evaded the attack and gracefully leapt down to one of the lower pegs. Alfred quickly followed.

The rebels continued like that for a while; Alfred slashing and running at Wayne while the latter smoothly avoided every blow. Eventually, Alfred started to run out of steam and realized that this wasn't going to work. However, it was, again, a little too late.

Wayne, who had merely been dodging, easily disarmed his tired apprentice as the blonde's attack lost its rapid pace. The simple sword flew until it landed outside of the Pegs and into a random bush on the ground outside of the clearing.

Alfred cursed just before he was pushed and took the short fall to the bottom of the pit.

"And now you're dead," Wayne sighed, "really, Rookie, what will it take for you to learn that you put yourself at a disadvantage every time you start out full force?"

Alfred only huffed childishly before he walked to the edge of the ditch and clambered out. He then proceeded to look for his sword. Wayne's voice interrupted him.

"There is going to be a meeting tonight a little bit before sunset at the abandoned shed. Come as Jones if you want to, but know that they will expect Trump."

After that, there was only silence.

Alfred sighed and soon located his sword. He would definitely be going to that meeting, as Trump, of course, but for now he had time to kill. A sly grin cracked onto his face.

And what better way to kill time than to visit his meat favorite Queen?

~•*•~•*•~•*•~

Arthur leaned back against the marble bench hidden deep within the palace gardens. The blue and purple roses that were unique to Spades were scattered all over the bright green hedges. They surrounded everything. They were blooming very nicely this spring and the weather was beautiful this morning. Why not go out to relax in the gardens with a warm pot of earl gray tea and warm scones and biscuits?

Yao had agreed that the Queen needed a break and let Arthur rest there for tea time after completing some paperwork. Now, Arthur could relax and simply be content in his own little bubble. Arthur closed his eyes and the corner of his lips twitched. Yes, this was rather nice—

"Well if it isn't my favorite queenie."

The voice jolted Arthur out of his pleasant stupor and the Royal snapped his eyes open. In front of him, leaning against the marble fountain, was an all too familiar figure for having only met just one time.

And he was munching on a biscuit.

"Wha—" Arthur stopped himself from stuttering at the man's sudden appearance. He needed to stay composed. Putting his teacup on the tray and standing up to his full height, which was still shorter than the man, Arthur looked him right in the eye. "You're Trump, the thief that works with the rebels."

Trump didn't seem intimidated whatsoever by Arthur's glare. Instead, he seemed almost happy. "You know me? I feel honored. Almost as honored as when I saw you stripping down for me."

Arthur couldn't stop the blush that exploded onto his face. Of course, the man just had to bring that up. The Queen found himself tongue tied as to what to say next. Thankfully, or unfortunately, Trump saved him the embarrassment.

"That still fresh in your mind?" The thief snickered. "You sure are caught up in the past, old man."

Arthur bristled at that last comment and was able to use his anger to find his voice again. "I am not old and I most certainly do not live in the past!"

This time, Trump laughed loud and unreserved. How dare that man laugh at Arthur Kirkland, the Queen of Spades. "Older than me, that much I know." Snatching up another cookie after finishing the first, the thief started to nibble on the second treat.

Arthur scowled, desperately trying to regain his air of confidence. "I would stop acting so cocky if I were you. The second I call out the guards will come running."

Trump smirked. "Oh, you mean the guards that are currently having a little nap right now? Good luck with that, queenie."

It took Arthur a moment to absorb the words before he realized their meaning. His scowl morphed into an expression of shock. "You—"

"Killed them?" Trump raised an eyebrow. "No. Just gave them a good knock on the head."

Arthur only felt slightly relieved. "How—"

"You ask too many questions," Trump interrupted, "seriously, just stop. Chillax."

"Excuse me?" Arthur growled. "Do you—"

"You're excused."

Arthur felt his jaw drop. This man was horrible.

"You stole the King's crown!" Arthur hissed, an aura of menace surrounding him. The Royal usually contained his composure, but he was far too provoked to give a damn about it at the moment.

Trump's smirk didn't disappear, but he did tilt his head ever so slightly. "So?"

"You're not denying it," Arthur said as he pointed a finger and took a step back.

"Why would I?" Trump's smirk morphed into a grin. "I feel pretty damn proud about it, too."

Arthur gasped in shock, his hands flying to his mouth. This… rebel was happy with the atrocity that he had committed? What the hell was wrong with him?

"Well, as lovely as this chat has been," Trump commented idly, as if he hadn't admitted to a horrendous crime, "I really must get going."

With that, the criminal gave Arthur a wink and jumped twice to reach the top of the fountain. After casting back a glance at the Queen, the thief smirked and cleared the rose hedge in front of him.

And with that, he was gone, leaving Arthur alone in the rose gardens wondering if the lay few minutes had actually happened.

A gleam from beneath his feet caught Arthur's attention. The Queen looked down to see a white card with a single black spade and four spiked corners. He scowled, but picked the card up nonetheless and put it into his pocket right next to the other one.

* * *

**Merits: Okay! So that concludes the third chapter. Thanks for reading. Now, I feel like I need to explain one thing. The Enforcers are the law keepers here. I didn't want to fall them the police because it felt too modern and soldiers or guards just didn't feel right. So yeah, Enforcers.**

**Please review. And here is your motivation: I will post a new story for every fiftieth reviewer. Request what you want (please keep it T rated and USUK/UKUS, those are the only requirements) and I will write it.**

**Review, review, review. And thanks for reading!**


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